


this is how we fall in love

by igabega



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Broken Promises, Colorblind GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Fluff, GEORGE IS COLOURBLIND LMFAOOOO L, Ghost Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), I Love You, Implied/Referenced Character Death, LAV GIVES BANGER LINES!!!, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Prisoner Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Sunsets, Walks On The Beach, dream prison arc amen, fluff in the rain amen, i am conga-ing, im so tired what the fuck, my friend is forcing me to hurry up for fucking starbucks, ok i hope u enjoy my brainrots amen, thats enough tags, vrea beta'd / proofread this i love her, why is that a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:41:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29244498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igabega/pseuds/igabega
Summary: "And if the stars and galaxies start turning to dust, blasting fire that scorches mankind's skin, would you still be there? An arm’s length away, ready to hold me as we watch everything end?"A collection of snapshots of different points in Dream and George's lives, strewn across multiple universes and multiple timelines.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	this is how we fall in love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maltfall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maltfall/gifts), [lunchbox_friend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunchbox_friend/gifts), [heysapnap](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heysapnap/gifts), [yardales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yardales/gifts).



> !!READ TAGS!!
> 
> a series of snippets dedicated to some of my favourite people. 
> 
> thank you for being here for me, this is for you <3
> 
> (VREA YOU ARE LITERALLY A GODSEND I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR HELPING ME WITH THIS)

Here we go, im sorry if the spacing is off! it makes it easier for me to read <3

“The light is pretty isn’t it?” Dream chides, voice soothing over like honey. A sweet breeze licks up George’s supple skin, low shadows carving out the curves in his pale features. 

“I assume so. I can't see the colour, remember?” George lets out an airy laugh that resembles the lightness of a cloud, or a field of dandelions. “It’s alright. You’re a much nicer thing to look at anyway.” 

Dreams' eyes sparkle, and George thinks they’re prettier than stars. 

“Oh really?” The taller man answers, cradling George’s hand between his own. “I guess I'm just that irresistible.” 

“Don't let your ego get to you,” George teases, smoothing his fingers through Dreams straw-coloured locks. He places a kiss atop his hair, resting his head on Dreams shoulder and letting his eyes droop closed. 

“I love you,” he says, voice sheer and close to a whisper, but still there, still meaningful. 

Dream pauses for a moment, tracing small letters on the small of George’s back. He thinks, before responding to the other man's comment. 

“I love you too.”   


This was a speedrun at 10 pm while listening to Steven Universe, anyway, i love this scene and wanted to include it because i thought you would like it too. 

  
  


\--------

“I love you” is a conflicted phrase. It can be used for so much harm, yet, so much joy at the same time. 

That’s exactly why George hates it. 

He doesn’t hate it when his friends say it to him of course, he hates the uncertainty of the fact he might become what he fears, just by saying those words alone. 

He’s glad it doesn’t bother anyone. 

He’s glad it doesn’t bother Dream especially. 

He reminisces a day where the clouds drew their tears from the sky, remembering their droplets on his skin and the brittle air rushing through his lungs. 

Dream had been there too. 

They had been sat together on a rain coated bench, hands intertwined and bodies only inches away from each other. Even now, George remembers Dreams exact words. 

“I don’t care that you can’t say it aloud, George. I don’t care that you can’t say it back at all. I know you love me in the small actions you do every day.” 

His smile that day was more than enough to prove how lucky George had ended up. 

A partner who loves him, friends who enjoy his company either way. 

He remembers not answering in words, yet instead, tightening his grip around Dreams fingers and leaning his head against the others shoulder.

I didn't even finish this one, oops, well i kinda liked it so :]

  
  


\-------

What are promises worth if not just to break them?

They're useless, un-kept words that burn like wildfire. 

They leave scars. Scars that won't heal, never have, and never will. 

That's why George doesn't keep promises. not anymore, at least. 

Not after  _ him _ . 

The frigid December night is something he remembers clearly, no matter how infinite the wound it had left behind in his heart. 

He remembers the sharp blue tones that had bled from the sky, sun hidden by the clouds and low light distorting the shadows. 

He remembers how his eyes had burned, how the bitter cold had made his hot tears foreign to his face, and how he had quickly wiped them away, leaving his sleeves damp. Harsh winter wind had stung his cheeks, his nose had been red and runny, and he had shakily cleaned himself up with the back of his sleeve.

He will never forget the pair of snake-like eyes that had bored through his. Their gaze had stabbed him, leaving him unguarded. Leaving him  _ vulnerable _ .   
  


He didn't want to admit it, but a part of him had wished that Dream’s heart would break and tear into a billion tiny pieces.

He wished pain for the man who had put him through hell. 

He still does.

"I'm sorry George-" 

He had apologized. A bland apology, coated with sour lies and bittersweet feelings. 

Too bad for Dream, George doesn't believe in 'sorrys' anymore. 'sorrys' dont apply to those who fuck up so bad, so far beyond repair.

"It's too late for ‘sorry’."

Far too late.

So about this one, thank u nat for the line. I don't know how to feel about it, whether to love it or hate it. Anyway, moving on.

  
  


\----------

"You're my lucky charm, you saved me." 

I can still remember your grip around my own. How it ached with pain, how your fingers stuck to mine.

But did I really save you? Because, you left me anyway, George. You promised me you wouldn’t. Remember?

"I promise you, I'll stay alive." 

What's the point of remembering now? You're gone. 

You always told me this day would come, but I was never exactly ready for it. It's like I blocked out everything when I was with you. You brought me so much joy, love. 

The stars gleam over the flowers we planted together. You always used to trip over the vines, anI always had to catch you. The thought still makes me smile. 

I've sat here every day, from dusk to dawn. The sunset is less pretty when you watch it alone. Don't get me wrong, it's still breathtaking, but it's not exactly… vibrant. Not anymore, at least. You really did have a smile that could light up a room, didnt you? 

You're never going to hear me say this, but I’m yours forever and always, across every universe, through every lifetime. I'm your 'Dream', as you liked to call me. 

I'm far from a dream, darling, but I'm flattered you think that way. 

The gloves you gave me are still warm. 

My apologies, I'm running out of things to speak about. I guess I just miss rambling to you, miss the late nights when I would describe the sunset down to every last detail, miss the stupidly fond face you would have on as you pretended to be interested in my every word. (The gloves are very warm, though. They remind me of your embrace.) 

I'm surprised you never showed any annoyance. You seemed to genuinely love it, always making sure to give a reassuring hum or chuckle.

The memories don't hurt like they used to. They do feel faint, though, and a small part of me is afraid of forgetting.

Don't worry, though, George. I could never forget you, no matter how many years I age. 

No matter how much you want me to. 

My heart is yours; no one can ever replace you. 

I love you, George.

Based loosely around a line seven had given me once, but i really like this. It's a bit weirdly written for sure, but i actually enjoy it :D

  
  


\-----------

"Maybe, if I had loved you more, would you still be with me?" 

George had uttered those words under salty tears and heavy eyes. It was dark out already, hot cheeks and broken hearts filling the emptiness in the air. He had said those words in a last attempt to save whatever they had.

It's been years since then, but the memories still cut deep into his everyday routine, affecting his every move, his every choice.

They leave scars of broken promises stretching across a sea of forgotten words.

And even after years, George can't forget the way his lover’s green eyes had been so dull, so stripped of life. How they had been filled with blunt hatred. 

Yet still, he remembers the warm embrace he had once known, the touch that felt like home. 

Once, he had been part of a couple full of joy, a couple that resembled the stars in the sky and rivalled the pull of the moon towards the earth. And then gravity had proved to  be insufficient  — he is now a broken heart that refuses to heal. 

Maybe, if he had loved him more, they would still be watching the days turn dark and cold, hidden under a freckled sky and a gleaming crescent.

_ Maybe, if I had loved him more, he would still be with me. _

this is a snippet (line given by lav) rushed at 8 pm. :] i actually really like this one too, for some reason, whenever lav gives me a line i enjoy what it turns out to be.

\-------

"George is supposed to be here by now?" 

Dream’s words were much more sheer than Sapnap had remembered. They were empty, almost depressing, monotone.

The clouds drew their tears from the sky, and Sapnap wondered what could possibly have made the cotton of infinite blue so sad. 

"I don't know, Dream. You know this is hard for him  — he's probably sleeping." 

"Sleeping?" Dream croaks, a frown placing itself atop his frail lips. 

"Yes, Dream," Sapnap replies, tone resembling steps on an old wood floor  — creaky, soft, and alone. "It's raining. He always sleeps through the rain." 

Sapnap begins to remember how difficult speaking to Dream is. His ghost flutters neatly above a headstone littered with flowers, a stack of letters placed carefully in front — all signed by George. Unfortunately, Dream had since forgotten how to read, only the most important qualities he had possessed following him to the afterlife. 

Sapnap had read each one of the letters to him, and he hadn’t failed to cry each time. 

The ghost boy had lost his ability to shed tears as well, though his choked breaths had been enough to break a heart.

"Why? I don't remember him being afraid of rain?" 

Sometimes, Sapnap hates the weird talent he has, since only he can talk to Dream. He sometimes wonders why George hadn’t gotten his weird "power" instead, and at the very least, why George can't hear Dream too. 

"He doesn't sleep through the rain because he's scared of it," Sapnap whispers, only loud enough for the spirit to hear, "he sleeps through the rain because it reminds him of you."

This is one of my favourite snippets ive ever made. The concept, the way dreams ghost is described, im literally in love with it. Thank you so much for giving me the line lav !! <3

\------

The two were laying on a bed of fine sand, stars sprinkled across a deep sky. It had been hours already, the time nearing somewhere close to four in the morning. Their hands were intertwined, heads nearly touching, eyes reflecting the constellations above. 

“I love nights like these,” Dream whispers, tightening the grip around George's supple skin, "They remind me of us." 

"Us?" George says, voice a breathy whisper. somewhere behind them, waves rippled under an infinite wonder, wind rustling the trees in warm June air, low moonlit fingers curling towards the sky, casting a shadow across Dream’s features. 

"Us, George," Dream replies, pure sweet bliss echoing across his ladder of words. "I would cross oceans for you, no matter the cold, no matter the time." 

"And if," George begins, voice catching in his throat, and threatening to throw his words away, to not let him utter a sentence, "and if the stars and galaxies start turning to dust, blasting fire that scorches mankind's skin, would you still be there? An arm’s length away, ready to hold me as we watch everything end?" 

Dream doesn't need to think about his answer. His heart is George’s, whether the other man wishes for it to be or not. "I would."

And Dream means it. He would trade his stars, his sun and moon all for George, leaving everything behind for the man he calls his. 

Leaving everything, for the man he’s found a home in.

"My heart is yours, George," Dream whispers, barely audible, and his eyelids close slowly. The flutter of his lashes against his face is soft and gentle.

"I am yours."

LAV COMING IN WITH THE B A N G E R LINES!!! Anyway, idk how to feel about this one. Its okay, but i hope u guys like it :)

  
  
  


\--------

He sits beyond a crackling fire, threatening to burn in front of a mound of broken words. It hurts, he won't deny it, but he refuses to stop trying. 

He can't lose Dream. Not now. 

"Dream, please," he pleads, eyes bloodshot and irritated, reflecting the fiery image of a tall man looming over him with the presence of an attacking dog, "please don't go."

Dream doesn't move. He doesn't even flinch when George grabs his hand, rubbing his thumb against Dreams palm. 

"Let me go, George," Dream says, expression resembling a blank slate or a worn down creation. Not worn by love, but worn by months of hurting, months of being chained somewhere he doesn't want to be.  _ 'Let me be free. free from your grasp.’ _ he wishes to say, but pulls back at the sight of George, small and pleading before him.

"Dream I cant- I can't lose you," George's voice is frail. It’s brittle, it’s sour, it’s  _ broken. _

_ Yes, you can. Dream finds himself thinking _

“You have to let go of me, George. I’ve hurt you enough, can’t you see?” He says, but deep down, he knows it’s a lie. It’s a brutal, honest lie, coated in a need for freedom, a need for escape. 

“I don't care,” George whispers, voice picking up into a yell. “I don't care how much you break and destroy me, Dream. I'll keep building back up my walls for you.”

i like this one, ( _ it’s part of something i’m working on)  _

  
  


\--------

George despises rainy days. 

He can hear the patter of the tears of clouds hitting his window, can feel the light breeze streaming through a crack in the sill. 

The weight of dread falls onto his shoulders, and his will to stand lessens even more. 

It's been years since the love of his life had left, and the memories sting like fresh wounds on his skin. 

The letters he has yet to give to Dream's headstone have begun to stack up, stealing the space on his messy desk and reminding him that this is day 1095, without Dream.

He feels as if he needs to remind himself of that. That he can’t let go of him, not even the simple  _ thought _ of him. Just thinking about it finalizing, about the last of their memories together dissipating into nothingness, is enough to send him into a panicked frenzy of going through letter after letter, memory after memory, promise after promise.

_ Don't forget _ , he repeats to himself, and thinks of Dream's eyes, of Dream's laugh, of Dream's smile.

He can’t let go of him, no matter how much he knows Dream would want him to.

And though he doesn’t want to, he has to remember the painful truth. 

Dream isn’t coming back, no matter how much he prays, no matter how much he wishes it could be true. The thought itself leaves an unhealable wound in his chest.

  
i was supposed to finish this, but oh well

\-------

It’s been quiet. Since I died, that is.

  
  
The birds still chirp, and the sun still sets, but there’s something missing. 

The vibrancy of ‘living’ in the world has completely disappeared, and everything looks more greyscale.

I’ve counted the days where I sit alone by my headstone, (1095, to be exact,) waiting for Sapnap and George’s weekly visit.

George.

I hate not being alive, not being able to hold my love in warm,  _ alive _ hands, hands with blood flowing through them and energy pulsing within them. How I wish to be able feel  his lips against mine, and for it to be  _ real. _

I would do anything to speak to him again. 

But since I can’t, he leaves me letters. 

Its stupid, but I’ve lost my ability to read. Sapnap does it for me, though. They break my – now cold, unbeating – heart more each time, and each word feels like a slap in the face. 

A slap in the face from the world — nothing but cruel.

A world that is nothing but unfair.

Sometimes I wonder, “ _ Why me? _ ” Then I remember how much the universe is against me.

Where’s George? Sapnap’s walking here, but he’s not with George. 

It’s raining, maybe he’s just running late.

I miss the world the way I knew it.

I hope they’re fine without me.

Heres dreams pov of being a ghost :] idk how to feel about it, since i dont usually write first person. 

  
  


\---------

" _ His eyes shine brighter when he’s with you. _ "

Sapnap had mumbled those words under a melting sky, and only now does George understand what they mean. 

Because finally, the boy of his dreams is his. George has secured his heart, and he isn't going to let go.

He remembers when he had been chasing, though. Reaching for a love that belonged to someone else. He had watched the man he had fallen hard for, fall in and out of love with someone else. 

One of his most prominent thoughts however, is how their argument, which had happened on the bridge they had built together, had changed both their lives forever — his bruised memories always find their way back to that exact spot. George had yelled at Dream, and Dream had yelled right back. 

It had been a silly quarrel, one over Dream's partner. George had been trying to convince Dream to stop seeing her, as it had been taking a toll on the blond-haired man’s mental health, but it had escalated into something larger, something... sour, something that reminded him of bitter citrus fruit, or freezing hands in hot water. 

"She's tearing you apart, Dream," George had croaked, voice cracking at the sight of Dream’s pale eyes, "name the last time you laughed with her." 

"George. now is not the time-" Dream had attempted to say, though the words had been drowned out by George's frantic motions and panicked expression.

"Exactly, Dream," George had whispered, soft enough that Dream had barely been able make out the string of words. "Do you smile with her," his voice had picked up steadily, "like you do with me?” 

I dont want to finisht this one, so tysm vrea for the line ily <3 (ilyt dumbfuck)

  
  


\--------

Dear George, I wish I could tell you that I care.

Unfortunately, if you’re reading this, it means that I since have passed. 

I wish I could’ve appreciated you more.  I love you,  I miss you so much more than words, George.

I did a bad thing for a good reason. I died on my own accords, so don’t mourn for me, I'm somewhere much better than life. I’m free from the invisible grip that has been pulling me down everyday. 

Tell Sapnap I miss his stupid laugh. He’s always been such an idiot.

Don’t think i dont miss you guys. I do, every day I’m not there. I’ll see you someday, I promise.

I’m keeping this letter short. Don’t wait up on me, okay?

Yours truly, Dream.

A short one, but im satisfied. 

  
  


\-----------

As sweet as a moonfruit, as delicate as the sunrise.

Dream thinks that would be the perfect description of George's touch.

I should probably finish this but brain = fried 

\-------

The smell of rain is something Dream is used to. 

It reminds him of the hours he would spend in the hands of boundless knowledge, resting in the delicate presence of his favourite stories. There had been way more charm when it came to rainy days, though. 

It could be the fact that the world had felt still, calm and collected, a correspondence to the way Dream felt. 

Maybe, it had been the fact that George was there with him. 

Either way, the shade of a large pine tree caters to their sitting position. The bench, engraved with small letters and gentle memories, had been engulfed by sweet droplets of rain, each one holding a mirror image of the world before breaking apart. 

Dream, revelling in George's presence beside him on the bench, turns to look at those dark curls and darker eyes, and thinks that it’s as if their hands had been tied by fate. 

Dream reaches his head over towards George's shoulder and nestles his head in the crook of George's neck.

“You look very pretty today,” George mumbles, and his words feel like a symphony in Dream’s ears. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Dream says, the sentence coming out muffled, but it's loud enough for George to hear nonetheless. He lifts his head to match George’s longing gaze, George’s chocolate eyes melting Dreams heart and temptinging him to let his guard down, just for him.   
  


“I love the way you look at me,” Dream chirps, holding a deep truth to his words.    


  
Dream speaks that sentence as if it's the only valid sentence in the world, and George, with affection fluttering happily in his chest and his heart positively doing  _ cartwheels _ , thinks he knows how loved he really is. 

“And I love you just as much as you do me, if not more.” The blond's eyes sparkle as George finishes the statement, cupping George's cheek and rubbing his thumb against it.

Another one i dont wanna finish :thumbsup: line given by vrea :D 

\--------

Here we go, the last snippet im gonna include and its not even a banger but here we go :dancer: 

Light is pretty against obsidian.

Well, it is when it’s not casted by lava. 

He’s lost track of the days, time plucking away the light of his eyes. His appearance has long since lost its signature charm, too, with how his head is now an overgrown mane of straw-coloured hair where every strand seems to be overlapping another, as well as how his beard is long and messy. 

He's supposed to leave the prison today.

Frankly? He's scared. Scared of how everyone he used to love will perceive him

He wants to think that this fear is irrational — that there is no reason to be  _ scared,  _ but the truth is the truth. He is a bad person. Even if he doesn't want to admit that to himself, even if he doesn't want to think about himself in that light — all the facts are out there, plain and simple for everyone to see.

The truth is inescapable, no matter how fast he runs or how hard he tries.

Sam murmurs a ladder of words which Dream tunes out. He's focused on nothing but leaving now. 

His clothes are badly stained, and his handcuffs clink against each other, cold metal searing into his wrists. It’s a somewhat normal feeling, yet it still catches him when his guard is down. He wants to feel ready, ready to face the world and it’s challenges again, but he can't help but feel useless, leaving from a place where he didn’t have to do much of anything. He didn’t have to cook his own meals, or clean, or do any housework at all. 

“Don’t expect anyone to be waiting for you,” Sam says, determined to keep Dream restrained as they pass through the multiple gates that point towards home. 

Dream doesn’t expect anyone to be waiting either way — he has already lost everything,  _ everyone _ he cared about. 

When they reach the exit, Dream can feel his blood pressure rise. If there  _ is _ someone there, what will they think of him? He’s not a good person, he knows that. He’s selfish, only caring about himself. Only caring if it’s him who’s safe. 

“Well,” Sam whispers, keeping a firm grip on Dream's shoulder. “Are you ready?” 

In reality, no. He’s not ready, but he’s already come all this way.

He takes a breath from the universe for a moment, imagining everything going still for just a second. “Yeah.” 

Sam's keys jingle in his pocket as he unlocks the large, obsidian covered doors that tower before them.

He steps through into the sunlight, feeling like a caged songbird finally free, and it's as if he's walked right into a brand new universe — everything is bright and vibrant and full of  _ life _ , and Dream, for the first time in what feels like years, feels his heart begin to beat steady excitement against his chest.

As the prison gate closes behind him, he sees someone waiting there, beyond the border. It's a familiar face, one he has seen many times before, burnt into his consciousness and committed to everlasting memory. 

“George?” Dream doesn’t want to believe it  _ is _ the other man, but the evidence, the proof of his presence, is hard to deny. 

“So you’re finally out, huh?” George flashes a bright smile, arms open as if to invite Dream into his embrace.

Dream isn't ashamed of the way he runs into it — he's been starved of human touch, of human affection for  _ so long _ , the mere prospect of it is enough to set fire to his blood, to make his skin call out in longing.

With George’s arms around his, Dream thinks nothing can go wrong. He’s finally safe again. 

And im done :D writer brain was not cooperating for this one,, but its pretty simple and i like the concept :] random line generator comes in handy sometimes.

**Author's Note:**

> TY FOR READING :D planning on taking a bit of a break after this, <33
> 
> follow my twt :] rootabega_


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